Shallow Grave by Alex Van Tol

into combat without knowing whether our chutes will open.
    I’ll do the talking this time.
    The lone lantern flickers as I turn my attention to the board. “Are we speaking with Jessica?”
    A shiver arcs up my spine as the lid moves. Without hesitation it slides to YES.
    â€œHow did you die, Jessica?”
    My scalp tightens as the letters are spelled out.
    R-O-P-E.
    My eyes skip away from the board, toward the coils of ropes hanging from large hooks on the wall.
    I look back at the board. “Were you strangled, Jessica?”
    YES.
    Shannon swallows and closes her eyes.
    â€œDid you die here, Jessica? In this boathouse?” We’ve already asked her whether she’s ever been in here, and she said no. But maybe she was wrong. Or lying. Because why else would she be here?
    NO.
    A ripple of relief floods me. Somehow it’s better to imagine that she didn’t actually die inside this place. But then, if not here…where?
    â€œWhere did you die?”
    D-O-C-K.
    The same dock that’s just outside the door.
    Shannon makes a thin noise.
    â€œWhere are you now, Jessica?” I ask. “Where is your body?”
    No answer.
    â€œWas she strangled and dumped?” Shannon asks. “What kind of boyfriend would do such a thing?”
    â€œIf she was dumped,” I say, “then her body must still be in the lake.”
    â€œThat’s, like, all around us,” Shannon whispers. “She could be anywhere. She could be right under us, Elliot.” She peeks down between her knees, like she can see into the water below.
    â€œDid Troy Joliette kill you?” I ask. Better get our facts straight.
    The lid flies to NO so fast, my fingers almost slide off.
    We exchange glances.
    â€œNot Troy?” Shannon says.
    Like a slapshot, the yearbook slides across the floor.
    Shannon screams. I can’t blame her. We should expect the unexpected by now, but I guess there’s still room for surprises.
    I jerk my leg away from where the book hits me. “Jesus.”
    We watch as the pages begin to turn, riffling forward, then backward. When they finally settle, we’re looking at a two-page photographic spread of the Wildwood Cheer Team.
    I sit back and take my hands off the board.
    Shannon’s attention pivots back to me. “Don’t take your hands off!”
    I shoot her a look of exasperation. “Or what? Or I’ll let the spirit out? Bit late for that.”
    She stares at me. Then, with an irritated little huff, she takes her hands off too. We look at the yearbook.
    â€œI don’t like this,” I say.
    She snorts. “Have you liked any of this?”
    I’m already edgy. I don’t want to be here any more than she does.
    And I didn’t even get us into this mess.
    I look straight at her. “It was going okay until you had your dumb idea to make a Ouija board.”
    She stares at me. “You’re blaming me for this?”
    I look around. “Uh, who else is there? It wasn’t my idea.”
    Shannon presses her lips together. When she speaks, her voice is tight. “Well, I’m not the genius who touched the Ouija board when he wasn’t supposed to,” she says.
    Something inside me snaps. “It wasn’t my fault, Shannon,” I roar.
    She recoils like I’ve slapped her.
    A cold wind pushes its way up through the cracks in the boathouse floor. The roof creaks. I look up to see dust spilling from a hole in the ceiling.
    Shannon looks up too. “Can’t this just be over?”
    Then she bursts into tears.

Chapter Fifteen
    Oh god. I feel awful. I shouted at her and made her cry.
    Like we don’t already have enough to deal with.
    I can’t stand the sight of Shannon with her hands over her face like this. I shuffle closer and put my arm over her shoulders.
    She lets herself lean against me. I pull her into a hug, wrapping my arms around her. She melts into my chest and tucks her head